


Rich Wive’s Club

by Lafeae



Series: Whump/Hurt/Comfort challenge [18]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bullying, Established Relationship, Kaiba is petty because he can be, M/M, Obnoxious Golf Shenanigans, drama and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 18:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: Fitting in has never been Joey’s strong suit. He’s just happy to be married to Seto.But being his spouse comes with a lot of hidden issues.During a golf outting with business partners, Joey attempts to be on his best behaviour, but the other wives aren’t quite as kind. Luckily, Seto is there to come to the rescue.





	Rich Wive’s Club

**Author's Note:**

> For ‘Bullying’ on my bingo board. Because it’s totally still going. 
> 
> A lot of inspiration came from MistressArafax and our random conversations. 
> 
> Warning: very mild, if you squint, homophobia.

“Ya ever find the ladies at these outings kinda...too much?”

Kaiba chewed on the question for about as long as is it took for Joey to finish combing his hair—two seconds, at best. The blond mop never stayed in place. He thought on it so shortly before deciding that Joey wasn’t asking, just venting and looking for his husband to lend an ear. Finding that distinction early on had allowed them to bicker about better things.

“They have their own way of addressing things,” Kaiba replied.

“They’re jus’ kinda,” Joey rolled his hand flippantly, “you know?”

“I don’t.”

“But they are. They jus’ all about ‘charity this’ and ‘bake sale’ that. And they’re all on the PTA. Like, we don’t even have kids and I feel bad about not bein’ on the PTA sometimes.” Joey laughed weakly. “They talk so damn much. Thought I had gotten used to it with Téa and Mai, but I guess I ain’t so good at all that small talk with ladies. Maybe I outta start joinin’ ya at those private spa things.”

“It’s not a spa.”

“You know what I’m talkin’ about. That retreat you an’ Moki do every few months.”

“That’s a therapy he wants me to go to. If you want to go, you can gladly take my place. Spare me the torment.”

Joey gave a ‘really?’ raise of the brow and headed downstairs. Just behind, Kaiba admired him. He was dressed in pastel polo and a light coloured slacks; he was gorgeous in light colours. Especially when he spent time in the sun. Usually when they were together in the San Francisco for KaibaLand; after, they skipped over to Catalina and drifted on a small boat, just the two of them, and spend the night. Joey was more than happy to play with rigging and sails before lunch. ‘Cali boy’, he had called himself once, which Kaiba amused himself with: “Cali boy with a Bronx accent.”

“Brooklyn. Get it right.”

“I don’t see a difference.”

“Hell ya don’t, smartass,” Joey chided. “Keep up that attitude an’ you’ll make your own damn sandwiches.”

“What a challenge,” Kaiba said, flat.

“Will be when I throw the lunchmeat into the water. You can make fish sandwiches!” And when Kaiba called his bluff, Joey had run into the cabin and grabbed the lunchmeat, holding it hostage over the edge of the boat. As he did, another boat bobbed by and docked close. Acquaintances or off-the-record business partners, Kaiba couldn’t recall, but Joey was suspended from the boat with the lunchmeat, laughing politely while turning cherry red. Later, Kaiba had asked if anything was wrong, having noticed his guests staring the entire time and whispering. Joey didn’t reply.

Lunchmeat debacle aside—it had been an amusing little story—Joey adapted well over the years. He slid into the lifestyle of the upper echelon in his own fluid way. Their seven years spent together would never wipe away the rough-around-the-edges quality Joey possessed, but he learned to walk-the-walk and talk-the-talk when necessary.

That didn’t stop him from jumping into well-worn loafers or skipping his way out the door with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Kaiba called it ‘getting out all the nervous energy’. It was never accepted of denied, and only stopped once Joey hopped into the passenger-side of the white convertible he’d gotten for himself but demanded Kaiba drive, because he didn’t like driving. He liked cars. He didn’t like driving. Accepting Joey’s quirk didn’t make him any less vocal at times, but he liked the way that Joey stretched back over the seat and soaked up the winds as they drove across Domino.

“You’re driving back,” Kaiba said.

“I know.”

“I’ll be drinking.”

“And I ain’t. I know.” Joey slid a pair of sunglasses up into his bangs. “I don’t get why ya go to these things if ya need to drink t’ talk to these people.”

“They’re...tolerable.”

“Ps-shaw! Lies. If you could tell these people t’ fuck themselves, ya would.”

Kaiba chortled. They slowed as they came up to the tall, wrought gate painted cream with a wicket arch overtop that read: _Domino Golf Club and Botanical Reserve_ before being given explicit directions to follow a maintenance road towards the far back, where the trees were thickest.

“Shit...I forgot it was here. I can’t golf,” Joey lamented.

“It’s not really about knowing how. It’s just another excuse for them to waste oxygen,” Kaiba said. Joey laughed until he snorted. “And as far as I’m aware, this isn’t a golf outing.”

“Oh, I bet it’ll become one jus’ ‘cause they’re jerks.”

Kaiba stifled a sigh. “If you don’t want to play, you don’t have to.”

“Meh. Some of the small talk ain’t so bad.”

“Some.”

“Mm-hm. But it ain’t like I can really talk t’ your investors. Not after that gala thing.” Joey stuck out his tongue. “That still haunts me sometimes. I can’t believe she really thought that she thought I was talkin’ ‘bout...what was it...? Dammit. Don’t remember now. It’s been like six years, I think. But it still gives me the heebie-jeebies. Anyways, I can’t talk to ‘em.”

“They’re not going to be here.”

“That’s a relief.”

They pulled up to a second gate, opened when Joey flashed the crème coloured invitation before tossing it into the backseat. The path was lit up with post lights covered in blue and white ribbon. Like it was a wedding instead of a social picnic. Whatever that was. Kaiba didn’t bother keeping up on his people’s jargon for things. Though this hadn’t been sponsored by KaibaCorp., it was definitely on their dime. A social gathering of business heads, politicos, and old money.

“If you don’t want to be here—,”

“No, I do. I do.”

“—then drive home, and I’ll call a car.”

“I’m gonna go. I’m here, ain’t I? It’s okay. Jus’ don’t get too damn drunk. Ya made me some promises for tonight,” Joey said, winking.

They’d barely given keys to the valet before Joey kissed him on the cheek and sprang away from the car, right into a batch of women in wide-brimmed hats and motley sundresses.

Kaiba sighed. Persistence was Joey’s middle name.

—

It didn’t take long for Joey to be caught in the centre of the women, walking and swaying with them as they spoke a million miles a minute about topics that flew right over his head.

Like fashion.

Not on themselves, though. They looked at others from afar and gossiped.

“That’s Crenshaw’s new lady,” one told Joey as he conveniently felt lost. “I mean, not that his wife knows that yet, but she will one of these days. Especially if she keeps being so gaudy. Like, c’mon, he can’t give her those kind of earrings and someone not notice.”

“It’s not like they’re good, just shiny,” another red-headed woman said. “They’re no Winston, I’ll tell you that.”

“They could be Winston. Knock-off. Think about this: he just went to Hong Kong. Lily gets real Tiffany, but the mistress gets knock-off Winston? What does that say?” The first woman asked. “At that point it’s like saying eventually she’s going to get Winston, and then she’ll be a CoverGirl or something. He’ll make it happen.”

“How can you even tell from here?” Joey asked.

“How can’t you!” The red-head demanded. “C’mon. Seto’s got to have trained you see those things, it’s not like he’s buying you anything knock-off. _You_ of all people should be able to tell a fake from a real.”

The red-head said ‘you’ like her tongue was a knife. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t the last, that Joey had been referred to that way. It wasn’t dissimilar to the old days of being a kid in a gang. Teachers and other students called him ‘you’ that way, too. It was the poorer, more pitiful version of ‘you’ that didn’t have an equivalent in the English language. Though it may as well have had ‘bastard’ attached to it.

But this wasn’t high school. These women weren’t leering or fearful kids. They were the girls that grew up in the right social circles, who developed languages from their raise of their eyebrow or a curl of their lip. It was enough to put others to shame. And when they did use words like ‘you’ in the way they did, he felt like they were punching him in the gut just because it was fun.

“Nah. Not from here. It is shiny though. Can’t say that’s a bad thing.”

“Such a guy thing to say.” The red-head clicked her tongue. “Such a Joe thing to say.”

The others laughed.

They went back to their gossip while Joey chugged his drink. It was just an excuse to get up and go over to the clubhouse to get more. Which would make him the errand-boy, since he was the newest initiate into the rich wive’s club. That’s what he’d dubbed them. Because other than be rich and married, they didn’t have any other distinguishing characteristics or hobbies.

“I wonder sometimes,” one of them said as he stood. “Why don’t you go shopping with us, Joe?”

“Joey,” he corrected.

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. “So silly,” she said to the gaggle of girls. “I’m serious. You really should. You could give us some pointers as to why Seto looks at you the way he does.”

“It’s certainly not the shoes,” the red-headed commented.

Joey made the mistake of looking down at his worn, but comfortable, loafers. The rest of them glanced at each other and laughed.

“I ain’t got any pointers for ya,” he said, tempering his anger.

Someone in the back went ‘ooo’, to which the blonde leaned forward and and said, “Isn’t that, like, the only thing you’d be good for? I mean, c’mon, isn’t it known that gay guys have all the best fashion tips? There’s got to be something you can give us. No way you won someone like Seto Kaiba over with your...charming personality.”

Clenching his teeth, Joey remained firm and forced a wide smile on his face. “Ya really wanna know?”

The gaggle nodded.

Joey leaned in real close. “Ain’t none of your fuckin’ business.”

When the women all jammed their heads together, they looked the same. The same plastic surgeon, Joey considered. It was why their expressions of surprise were all the same.

He smiled.

It was a momentary win, though Joey knew it wouldn’t last. It never did. Unlike some of the other wives who had come and gone, Joey wasn’t willing to roll over. He wouldn’t submit and turn into a robotic Stepford wife. It was probably the reason this cycle kept happening. They would nip, and he would nip back, though he knew they weren’t used to his crude way of doing things. He didn’t go to their hoity-toity schools; he didn’t learn their etiquette, elocution, or decorum. And he knew that worked in his favour.

After, he went to the clubhouse bar. “Sprite and grenadine,” he ordered.

He hung his head in his hands and took in a deep breath. He could get through this. It was only going to be another few hours, and there were always places to wander. The private facility was vast. If nothing else, he could take a walk the paths around the back nine. Not that he wanted to. That was giving up too easily.

“I wondered where you were.”

Joey’s head perked up at Seto’s voice. “Grabbin’ a refill. It’s damn hot out today and there ain’t nowhere else for shade.”

“Mm.”

“What are you up to?”

“They’ve suggested we play a few holes. I’m debating.”

“Go for it. You could use the exercise.”

Seto pinched Joey’s elbow. “That’s enough.”

“You could. Look at this,” Joey grabbed at Seto’s side, which was just as taut and thin as normal, but he made himself grab just a little bit of skin, “you’re gonna get all flabby an’ have t’ have new coats made. I can see it now. Those hip-spikes are gonna be huuuuge.”

Seto snaked his arm around Joey’s waist and pulled him in aggressively. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

“Lies.”

“No one else gets away with what you do.”

“Moki does.” Another pinch on his elbow. “Oi, that hurts ya know.”

“Exactly.”

“I only tell ya these things because I love ya,” Joey said. He planted a quick kiss on Seto’s cheek. The executive’s ears went red, and he muttered ‘I love you too’ while shooting Joey a disapproving look. It softened after Joey grabbed his hand. “You coulda just went, ya know. Go talk stocks an’ shit with those guys or somethin’.”

“I figured I ought to ask if you want to come.”

“So considerate,” Joey said, sarcastic. “Ya know I can’t golf.”

“It seemed like a better option than sitting alone at the bar,” Seto replied. There was a pregnant pause, one that made Joey wriggle in his seat, before Seto asked: “Are you upset?”

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

Joey saw one the red-headed woman at the end of the bar. “Maybe.”

Seto’s hand squeezed Joey’s shoulder, and Joey nuzzled against it. “If you want to leave—,”

“I don’t. I ain’t givin’ up on this. If I don’t keep puttin’ on the face and gettin’ through, I’m not ever gonna grow a thick skin.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Kaiba said. “What did they say to you this time?”

“It’s nothin’.”

“Joseph...”

“Nothin’! It ain’t nothin’, okay?”

Seto’s expression was unreadable, but his thumb stroked along Joey’s jawline. Eventually, he huffed, “Fine. I know you’re stubborn. I might as well try and push a cart sideways, I’d have more luck.”

“I’m gonna do this myself.”

“If you say so.”

“Jus’ watch me. I’ll get the hang of this an’ then I’ll end bein’ their Queen Bee.” Kaiba quirked a brow. “Or...King. Whatever. Ya get what I’m sayin’. It ain’t gonna be a problem one of these days. An’ I ain’t gonna become one of them to do it, neither.”

Seto let out a mirthful breath. “I’m sure.”

“Just you watch.”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, his drink returned, along with whatever Seto had ordered.

It took one swallow of the drink to immediately slap his hand over his mouth and scrub his tongue with a napkin. The glass itself looked harmless, rosé and bubbly like his mocktail always was. They’d even garnished it with a cherry this time. But he could taste the gin in it, bitter and dry, and it was enough to make him vomit.

“Joseph?”

Through watering eyes he looked to the red-head woman who gave him a small wave.

“Joseph, what’s the matter?” Seto asked, though before he finished asking, he smelled the drink and tasted it himself. “Really now...that’s just petty and shallow.”

“It ain’t the first time. They know I don’t drink. I don’t know how they know...it don’t matter what I do, neither,” Joey said. “I keep thinkin’ that I ought t’ tell ‘em about my dad, but that’s just gonna end up givin’ more ammo. I seen what they did to Kimi last year. Got her back on her habit or whatever. Had her sent back to Betty Ford ‘cause they didn’t like her, I guess.”

“You aren’t an alcoholic.”

“That ain’t that point,” Joey snarled.

Seto took Joey’s hand and dragged him off the barstool. They were making a beeline for the red-head, and Joey was fighting it at every step. It was only when they veered around that Joey stilled, and he looked back at the red-head before sticking his tongue out at her.

“Where the hell’re we goin’?” Joey asked.

“We’re going to play golf.”

“I ain’t runnin’ away from this.”

A mischievous glimmer hit Seto’s eye. “Don’t worry. Your friends will be joining us.”

—

It took maybe three words from Seto to have the husbands call their wives to come along with them. Which was exciting for them, Joey noted. It was probably something they weren’t often allowed to do. Golf was the gentleman’s sport, or the businessman’s sport, and as far as he could tell, it was mostly an excuse to leave the nagging wife at home while also complaining about them. That’s what his few experiences on the course with some of these snobs taught him, at least.

Seto wasn’t fazed by it. Or if he was, he didn’t show it. This wasn’t his territory per se, but it was still a game. He stood with unwavering confidence in his superiority, and Joey knew it by the wide smirk on his face.

That might have been his evil plan. Or whatever it was it he had in mind.

They tee’d off.

Seto stayed at the head of pack who, without saying it, regarded him alpha. It wasn’t a position Seto revelled in. He kept a level-head and spoke evenly with the men, drinking intermittently. The only reason Joey knew he wasn’t enjoying himself was because he drank—that, and the way his laugh had a sharp, quick end. Years of courtship (and high school loathing) taught him to read that as ‘how stupid can you be?’

The rest of the men seemed proud to make him crack any expression. And as much as he hated their boring talk about mergers and acquisitions, the coming vote, and the possible real estate bubble burst that they’d seen “coming for years”, they said—whatever that meant—they were still better to talk to than the wives.

Their flighty talks about bad fashion choices and scandals had ceased. Half-bored as the initial excitement wore off, and half-fake whenever the husbands neared, Joey was staring to see where Seto’s plan was going.

“They can handle boredom for hours ya know,” Joey said. They ambled towards the third hole. “They’re just gonna fake it the whole way.”

“Aren’t we faking it?” Seto said. 

“I dunno, are we? I’m havin’ fun. I’m keepin’ track of how often they’ve looked at the bottoms of their shoes. Either way, they can fake enjoyin’ this if how often they fake orgasms is true.” Unmoved, biting back a grin, Seto shook his head. “What exactly you got in mind, anyways? We’re jus’ playin’ golf.”

Seto’s eyes roved around the surrounding vista. A rolling hill dropped off into a pond. Some of the girls walked along the edge talking to each other. On the opposing side was a thicket of trees where the golf cart was parked, the red-head and the blond sitting sipping water in the shade.

“Just watch.”

Seto took to the tee, and while Joey couldn’t say he was the best player, he’d spent enough time on a course not to look foolish. He had an arc that that made his ass godly, and that was good enough for Joey.

But when he hit the ball, Joey furrowed his brow. It went nowhere near the hole. It shot off to the side and arched long enough to whiz by the girls walking along the water, stop them, and then splash water on them.

They both screeched.

Joey looked to the husbands. It took several seconds before they laughed, miming their wives as they snapped the waters out of their dresses. It wasn’t even a lot of water.

No one said a word to him.

Seto reset his tee and hit again. Feigned (or maybe real) annoyance rippling across his face as he willingly wasted a stroke to make that kind of shot. He returned after a proper shot and stood beside Joey.

“Lucky shot,” Joey said.

“Luck has nothing to with it.”

“She was glarin’ at ya.”

“I can’t imagine why. She took the risk being close to the water,” Seto said. “She can’t complain when she put herself in harm’s way. Mathers warned her before she started over there.”

And a lightbulb went off in Joey’s head. He hid the ‘ooooh’ behind his hand and nodded. “I getcha.”

When it was his turn, Joey stepped up to the tee and wiggled about. That’s the professionals did. Squatted down, wriggled about, measured the distance. All that stuff. He could hear the woman still complaining in the background, while her husband hushed her that, “Mr. Kaiba didn’t mean it. That’s the risk”.

The red-head and blond were sitting underneath the tree still. Squirrels and birds scampered in the upper branches. He knew he could throw a stroke that way without trying.

He waited too long. The cart took off down the path, and he half-assed his best attempt to at least get the ball over the hill. They moved on. It was for another ten holes, deep into the back nine, that Joey got another chance. Seto had been taking small potshots whenever he had the chance. Some hit the target, mostly scaring the women where they wandered too close to a sand trap or water hazard.

It was another thicket of trees that Joey got his chance. The four of them stood in the shade, fanning themselves with their hats while they admired flowers. The wind had been blowing strong and sporadically, a hot wind that only made the sun more unbearable. And making his game worse. Not that he was anywhere near Seto’s score in the game. But he would even out the score in their game of messing with the wives.

With a strong gust of wind, Joey hit, staring into the sun while the ball swerved sideways. It bounced into the trees.

Joey kicked the grass. Damn. Missed a good chance.

“Sorry! I’m a little new!” he called.

The red-headed woman sneered and displayed his ball and tossing it back. “Try again!” She shouted, saccharine-sweet, a big smile plastered on her face.

The flocks of birds he’d disturbed came several seconds after. They threaded through the four women, sending them screaming and running from the edge of the forest with their hands over their heads.

“Well, damn,” Joey said, innocent. “I didn’t get t’ see that one.”

“Don’t be. Everyone else got a laugh,” Seto replied.

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t.”

“I mean, I stopped bein’ a bully in high school. This don’t exactly feel right,” Joey said. But he laughed at the aftermath, watching the blond pat her hair down. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“And we’ll tell the kids that. But for now there’s work to be done. The end justifies the means. Trust me.”

Joey sighed. “I always trust ya, babe.”

They continued on. For the last several holes, Joey spent his time catching up to Seto’s well-aimed attempts at being capricious. But Seto was better at it. He was the sort of person who could use a wedge, account for wind, and splatter them face-first with the sand from a sand-trap. It was a chess game. The ladies were moving pieces. But Joey did the best he could, and by the last hole their hits were dead even, seven-to-seven.

Seto didn’t tank his shot. He landed cleanly on the green and putted the ball in under par.

This was Joey’s chance to win at this little match and, maybe, see whatever had the wheels in Seto’s head turning.

The last hole didn’t have anything too grand. An uneven green with one trap at the end, no water, no trees. Very little foliage other than a far-off display of flowers with various placards explaining what they were. The ladies seemed aware of where they stood, keeping behind the pack and stirring the mixed drinks they’d gotten off the passing refreshment cart.

When it was Joey’s turn, he figured he didn’t have a chance. Seven was enough. At least he and Seto tied, and he got his petty revenge.

Meanwhile, the ladies gossiped behind him, openly complaining about how terrible the day had been. He was sure he heard snide comments under their breath about his and Seto’s bedroom performance, amongst other things, while his husband was off to the side. He bristled. Seto didn’t care, so he wasn’t going to let it get to him either. He was the bigger man at the end of the day.

A stiff wind hit him in the face. They laughed as he staggered. Without a second thought, he hit the ball.

It went straight up. Joey groaned and side-eyed the ladies as they laughed harder.

Whether by magic, luck, or a combination of both, The ball dropped into the red-head’s drink. The front of her dress was stained red, and little rivulets ran down her face, stuck in horror.

“Why you—!”

Joey held up his hands in defence. The gaggle charged him. He backed away.

“Look, I didn’t mean it,” he began sincerely. “Sorry, seriously. Just sorta did that, okay?”

“You didn’t mean it? You’re sorry? _You_—“ the aggressive you was back, along with a pointer finger to his chest, “—_you_ did this on purpose. The both of you did. Look at this! Do you have any idea what _you_—,”

“What’s wrong?” Seto asked, stepping beside Joey.

“What’s wrong? You know exactly what’s wrong. You and your stupid husband have been making a joke of us all day long. And now look! Look at my dress!”

“What about it?”

“Are you blind? Look what that idiot did to it!”

A deep smile crossed Seto’s face as he considered her and her stained dress. Some might have mistaken it for caring, but the thinning of his lips and narrowing of his eyes made him frightful. He teetered his club over his shoulders, and were he more sadistic, Joey could imagine him swinging it right at her temple.

“And?” Seto asked. 

“What do you mean ‘and’?” The red-head gaped. “Are you serious?”

“It was an accident.”

“As if! You both did this on purpose!” She grabbed the collar of the dress. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

Seto looked her up and down. “Replaceable?”

“You—! This...this is not replaceable! This is Balenciaga, one-of-a-kind. It is _not_ replaceable.”

“Everything about you is replaceable.”

“Ha! That’s funny,” the woman scoffed. “Don’t think I don’t know what sort of person you are.”

“What am I?” Seto asked.

The red-headed woman smiled. She looked beyond her thick lashes towards the other women who had grown quiet and were shaking their heads. Joey wondered how long she had been wanting to say something to Seto. She’d probably been waiting for a moment like this, where Joey ran to Seto and the executive flew off the handle. He couldn’t imagine what she wanted. Nothing probably. Bullies never did, other than the satisfaction of being a bully. Or making up for a part of themselves that they didn’t have control over.

“A jerk with a lot of money. People like you are a dime-a-dozen. They think their philanthropy makes them look better. Children’s funds, orphans, hospitals.” She looked Joey in the eye. “_That_ thing. You do it all to make yourself look better. Everyone knows exactly what kind of person you are. We all talk about you. All of us. In detail. And we’ve decided that no matter how much money you spend, or how many charity cases you pick up, you’ll always be a jerk. And no one’s ever going to like you.”

“I like him,” Joey said.

“_You_ don’t count.”

Before Joey could launch forward, Seto grabbed his elbow, and he watched as the husbands descended on them. The rest of the wives had backed away, leaving the red-head alone.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and her husband looked at her sternly. “What are you doing?”

“They ruined my dress. And insulted me,” she said, haughty.

“As far as I heard, you insulted him. You were standing too close, anyways. We told you that multiple times.”

“But I—,”

“No buts. Seriously, of all the people could insult, you chose Mr. Kaiba?” He looked apologetically to Seto and Joey. The red-head began to make a scene, and was swiftly pulled aside by her husband. Far enough that all Joey heard was her exaggerated huffing and puffing.

“Ya didn’t have t’ let her say all that to ya,” Joey said once he and Seto moved further down the lane. He forgot about the game.

“I did. As I said, the end justified the means.”

“Yeah, but ya didn’t have to get so involved. I know you care about me an’ all, but it’s my fight to fight. Especially since I’m the one she’s had a problem with.”

Seto shrugged. “She decided to be petty to you, so I was petty back. I find that people can’t take what they give out. Besides, I don’t think it’s you she had an issue with. You were just guilty by association.”

Joey considered it for second.

Maybe.

Maybe he was right. She did have an odd fixation on Seto. Which wasn’t weird, really. He’d faced a lot of adversity for Seto’s sake. When he chose to fall in love with Seto, he knew the sort of zany life he was getting himself into. Adjusting was just par for the course.

“Well, whatever,” Joey said. “Only person who’s opinion of me matters is your’s anyways. So I appreciate ya stickin’ up for me even when ya don’t hafta. An’ bein’ petty.”

“Any time.”

Joey snickered. “Thanks.” From afar, he saw where the red-head was settled on a golf cart sulking. He paused in their walk and pulled away. “Give me a sec.”

He crossed the lawn, approaching her cautiously. As mad as he was, he didn’t want to leave this on a sour note. He would be the bigger man.

Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, Joey cleared his throat and poised it towards her as a peace offering. She scoffed at it, but after looking around a second, she gave it another glance, a sobered saddened one, and took it with a muttered ‘thanks’. Joey said nothing, but smiled. It was start.

Jogging back, Joey wrapped his arm around Seto’s waist and acted as those he never left. “Now let’s get outta here. Pretty sure there’s a bed callin’ our name.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. Idk, but I had fun with it. 
> 
> I figured it’d be better than dealing with the high school concept of bullying. Since it does come in all forms with all people, I imagine. Anyways, this was fun to write. Tell me what you think!


End file.
